Candy Man
by sharingank
Summary: Gokudera would never allow another swirly lollipop inside his house again. GokuYama. Set in the Millefiore future.


The second of my 30kisses prompts. :D This one was so much _fun_. I hope everyone enjoys!

* * *

**Candy Man**

* * *

Somehow or another (Gokudera preferred not to think about it at length), they'd gotten into the habit of showing up at each other's places without any warning, so when Yamamoto strolled through Gokudera's front door one chilly, dreary Saturday afternoon, Gokudera, huddled beneath at least six blankets on the couch in the living room, didn't even bother looking up from his book. His only acknowledgement of Yamamoto's presence was a grunt that _almost_ sounded friendly, if you strained really hard.

"Yo," Yamamoto greeted him cheerfully, not deterred in the slightest. Gokudera heard the rustle of a coat being dropped on a chair, and felt Yamamoto's weight settle beside him moments later, closer than necessary, but Gokudera _was_ cold so he let it pass—Yamamoto always seemed to have a lot of extra body heat. "It is _frigid_outside."

"No kidding," Gokudera deadpanned, and turned a page in the book (a detailed biography on Chopin that the Tenth gave him). "Idiot…"

Yamamoto laughed his crazy, stupid laugh that Gokudera had grown fond of but would never admit as much out loud. Bad enough he admitted it in his head. Though there were plenty of things about Yamamoto that Gokudera had grown fond of—the scar on his chin, the way he could jump from goofy to serious and back in the amount of time it took to screw in a light bulb, his detergent (it smelled _so good_), the way he fumbled his utensils when they went to Italian restaurants…

Yeah, plenty of things. Too many (Gokudera blamed that on age softening him—not that twenty was _old_).

"Hahaha, look at all these blankets!" Yamamoto prodded at the general vicinity of Gokudera's thigh. "Freeze baby."

Gokudera finally tore his eyes away from the book to shoot Yamamoto a glare. "Shut up, baseball freak." He wasn't blushing. No sir. Not over someone like Yamamoto. "You know I hate the cold," he grumbled.

Yamamoto slung an arm around Gokudera's shoulders. "I do," he replied gravely. "So I said to myself, 'Takeshi, it's your responsibility to help him stay warm,' and here I am."

"How considerate."

"I rather thought so." Yamamoto kissed him on the cheek, one of those quick sneak-attacks that caught you like a deer in the headlights and made you so awkward you couldn't put up a proper defense.

"_Oy_—"

But Yamamoto, laughing that laugh again, had already slipped off the couch and was backtracking to the kitchen where he left his coat. "Wait 'till you see this, it's awesome," he called out excitedly.

Gokudera scowled and rubbed his cheek. Kind of a middle-school-ish thing to do, but Yamamoto wasn't in the room to tease him, so it didn't matter.

That guy…it was strange, the way he managed to infiltrate Gokudera's life so thoroughly that Gokudera had no choice but to get used to him, had no choice but to let Yamamoto in, because Yamamoto was always nearby, with his smiles and his laughter, his watchful eyes (sometimes bright, sometimes narrowed and hard as granite), his sword, his scar. Strange, the way Gokudera despised those things, once. Envied them, once.

Strange, the way he had come to accept this person he hadn't intended to accept. Hadn't intended to leave his door open for. Hadn't intended to kiss, to touch, to depend on. Hadn't intended…

None of this was intended. It just _happened_ like everything else.

He shook his head.

Whatever.

Yamamoto was back, anyhow, his prize held aloft in his right hand.

"'The _hell_ is that?"

"A swirly lollipop," Yamamoto said gleefully, as if it were the equivalent of a baseball signed by Babe Ruth. "Isn't it _great_?" He hopped onto the couch, grinning like a maniac, and started to tear the plastic wrapping off of it. "I could hardly believe I found one, but you know that candy store by the flower shop a couple blocks from here? They had 'em on display in the window."

Rarely was Gokudera struck so speechless that he couldn't even summon up a decent jibe, considering he had multiple languages at his disposal, but honestly, what do you say to a grown man who flips his shit over a _lollipop_?

So he gawked for a while.

And then, "It's bigger than your head."

"Mm-hm!"

"No, seriously, that thing is a fucking beast."

"Mmm!"

"…Yamamoto."

"Mm?"

Gokudera shut the book and whacked him with it.

"Stop…licking that and talk to me!"

Yamamoto stopped, though he kept on grinning.

"Wanna try?" He held the lollipop out.

Instinctively, Gokudera scooted away from him.

"No!"

"Oh come on." Yamamoto closed the gap between them. "Try it."

Gokudera looked from him to the lollipop. "I said no."

"Pleaaaaaaseee?"

Oh _God_.

"Fine," Gokudera snarled, and yanked the lollipop out of Yamamoto's hand. Their eyes locked together, he licked around the rim with deliberate slowness, then gave it back. "Satisfied?"

The kiss he received in response was far less chaste than a peck on the cheek.

"Mm," Yamamoto murmured by his ear. "Yummy."

Gokudera rolled his eyes. "Dumbass."

"Can I watch T.V.?"

"I don't care."

"Wanna share the rest of the lollipop?"

"No."

"How about a blanket?"

"You'd better not try to tickle my feet like you did last time, or I'll break your face," Gokudera warned, and lifted his pile of blankets so Yamamoto could fit under them, too.

They both fell asleep on the couch.

When Gokudera woke up, his hair was stuck to the lollipop.


End file.
